Dragon Age: Endless Tales
by Faust23
Summary: The Chantry teaches that man's sin drove the Maker to turn away from His creation and brought doom upon the world. The Endless remain though, each fulfilling their role and performing their function as aspects of the mortal world.
1. Dream

Dream

Solona Amell felt the cold grip of fear take hold of her body as she ascended the winding stair toward the Harrowing Chamber. Her legs felt like lead weights as she tried to drag them forward, her muscles not obeying her commands as the paralyzing terror seemed to send a freezing chill throughout her shivering form. She had heard the stories speaking of the horrors of the Harrowing, the rumors that the mage apprentices were sent alone to confront a demon, either destroying it or being possessed during the struggle. All of the initiates knew of those who had attempted the Harrowing and were never seen again. The more hopeful and sadly naïve believed that the Chantry would never remorselessly condemn them to death, believing mistakenly that the goodness that was the holy church of light could never be so malicious or cruel. Solona knew better, cognizant of the fact that the Chantry regarded mages as a pestilence to be cured, a corruption to be purified, a nuisance to be purged.

The great doors to the Harrowing Chamber opened with a drawn-out creak, revealing the grim faces of Knight-Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving. Cullen stood near the pair, his face adopting a pained and fearful expression, most likely because of his not-so-hidden feelings toward her. Many of the female initiates liked to gossip about the two, whispering and giggling about the furtive glances and blushing looks he gave her. Solona liked Cullen as he had always been kind to the mages unlike many of the other templars who seemed to be under the impression that all of them might become abominations at any moment. Greagoir was certainly included in this category, the grizzled, old master of the tower reserving a special dislike for her, and she knew exactly why. She was too strong, her power astounding even the most experienced of the senior enchanters. While others struggled to master the most trivial of spells, she had already delved into the ancient secrets of the magisters of old, learning the forbidden arts they used to try to usurp the throne of the Maker Himself. No one knew of these surreptitious studies though, her cautious nature always taking great care to ensure that her illicit activities remained a secret.

She did not listen as Greagoir spoke some meaningless words quoted from the Chant of Light, her eyes fixed upon the vaulted ceiling, once bright frescoes painted by the long-vanished Avvars now blackened and dirtied by the smoke and ash of the torches surrounding the yawning space. "_Another thing the Chantry corrupted by their unchecked fanaticism_," Solona thought, frowning at the indistinguishable shapes making up the paintings.

As Irving began speaking, Solona began looking toward the other masked templars who stood vigilant in a loose circle around her. She looked into their cold eyes shadowed by steel visors, a sense of anticipation along with cruel humor projected in their gazes. She scowled, envisioning the templars laughing maniacally as they ran her through as soon as she began her Harrowing. She would not put it past Greagoir, a man who regarded mages as subhuman and thought of killing them just as he saw disposing of garbage.

Greagoir's harsh voice snapped the fearful girl out of her musings as he said, "Should you fail…we will be forced to strike you down. Do you understand?"

Solona glared at the bearded man, her eyes twin flames of hatred as she imagined the man bursting into flame. If only. "I understand," she said quickly, vowing never to allow herself to die by the blade of any templar.

* * *

Solona spun her staff around her wrist, unleashing a cone of cold that froze the rage demon as it lunged to attack her. Walking around the ice sculpture, she casually snapped its spindly arms off before shattering with a quick jab of her staff. She watched as the remains of the demon scattered around the discolored ground, the pieces melting away as Mouse squealed in excitement about her victory. She ignored the annoying, lost mage, watching as the colorless sky seemed to morph and change as bolts of lightning rose from the void below to run along the constantly shifting clouds in the sky. The atmosphere around her seemed to change suddenly, static electricity running between her fingers and the spirit staff as she observed the island around her begin to change.

Broken columns bents and contorted into impossible shapes before finally fading into dust carried along by a sudden wind. The twisted statues seemed to moan as their gaping mouths opened to reveal thousands of eyes, each darting around as if searching for the source of the calamity affecting the Fade. The ground shook as the island cracked apart, the remains connected by what looked like human muscle before these tenuous strings too frayed and snapped. The islands twisted into endless spirals descending into the abyss below, the craggy rock seeming to form endless staircases that seemed to connect to each other even though they went off in completely different directions.

The distant pieces of the Black City looked as if a wave of heat rose before it, the dark shapes distorting and turning into a wavy mirage. Each piece suddenly came together, forming a single, unified structure floating off in the distance, soaring towers emerging from the islands like newly emerged teeth of an infant. Solona's eyes widened at the chaos around her, trying to maintain her balance as everything but the area she stood upon shifted and changed. She had heard that the spirits of the Fade could reshape and reform the Fade as they saw fit, imitating the objects and structures they had perceived in mortal's dreams. She never knew that such a transformation could be on such a massive scale, however, the entire Fade seemingly coming under the will of one, single architect.

She looked to Mouse whose face betrayed no concern at the overwhelming upheaval going on around them. "_Is this normal for those living in the Fade?_" she wondered, her eyes scrutinizing Mouse for any sign. He betrayed nothing, his eyes continuing to look at her intently, hungrily, almost in a predatory way. "You know…you could let me go with you when you leave this place. I could finally be free!" he said enthusiastically as a tinge of fear appeared in her mind at his words.

"You had your chance Mouse. Even if I did bring you back with me, you would have no body to return to," Solona said suspiciously.

"Oh, but I would," Mouse said, his voice growing increasingly dark as he appraised her, salivating as he looked upon the woman before him. "A delicious body, one the templars would not be able to take from me. Won't you please help me…it's been so…long".

"I'm beginning to think killing the demon wasn't the true test of this Harrowing," Solona said warily, brandishing her staff at the now malevolent looking mage.

Mouse laughed maliciously, his changed voice now deep and foreboding, "You have done well mortal. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions... careless trust... _pride_. Take care mortal because true tests…never end".

Mouse had suddenly transformed into a huge, spiked demon, his fanged maw dripping with blood and saliva as his split-pupil eyes looked at her with hunger. She tried to move but found her legs rooted to the spot. Just as she began to panic, Solona felt the familiar sensation of the real world drawing her back, taking her away from the world of dreams and away from this horrid demon. A sigh of relief escaped her as the shower of light began to bathe her in golden energy, warmth beginning to penetrate into her frozen body.

Just as a sense of safety began to come over her, the perception was shattered as an unseen force severed her connection to the real world. She looked around in shock, watching as darkness began to overcome the gray atmosphere of the Fade, distant lightning striking the far off islands as thunder rumbled around her. The demon seemed surprised too as it looked around dumbly, for the first time seeming to notice the great changes that had affected the Fade since her defeat of the rage demon.

"What business do you have in my realm, mortal?" a questioning voice spoke from behind her, but when she turned to the identity the speaker, only darkness greeted her.

"Who's there? Are you another demon; is this another test?" Solona said as she struggled to keep her voice steady, paralyzing fear beginning to overcome her.

"Demons? Tests? Of what nonsense do you speak of mortal, especially considering you stand uninvited in my realm?" the voice spoke, this time sounding irritated.

"Fool! Show yourself! Be you a spirit of valor or another worthless demon of the Fade, I will allow no one to speak in my presence without first showing its face," the demon spoke, its enraged eyes darting around the deepening dark.

"Be silent. I will not have my own creations speak to me in this manner," the voice said as crimson light leapt from the darkness, surrounding the demon as it roared in anguish, its body reduced to a hazy, red cloud as it was sucked into the source of the light. "Now mortal, I believe I asked you a question".

"My Harrowing…I'm here to complete my Harrowing, to face the demon. I was going to leave, but some force pulled me back. Was it you?" Solona asked, looking around her in panic but seeing nothing in the swirling darkness.

"These words you speak…I have no knowledge of them. Mortal matters are no concern of mine, but when they interfere with my duty, it is an altogether different matter. You have a power within you…a power stolen from me. That is why I pulled you back," the voice explained as the darkness began to dissipate.

"Show yourself! I have stolen nothing from you! Stop hiding in the darkness you coward!" Solona exclaimed with a quavering voice.

"I am not hiding, I cannot hide in this world. This world is me, or once was, created from the very essence of my power," the voice spoke from behind her, causing the mage to turn around quickly. A figure towered over her, a black cape seemingly shimmering like the night sky was draped over his body, fire seeming to rise from the folds of cloth lying on the ground. He was thin and tall, his gangly limbs seemingly out of proportion with the rest of his body, his skin a chalk white. His long face bore eyes that were completely black except for twin points of blazing light serving as pupils, spiky black hair with a blue tinge rising from his head in an unkempt mess. "You see me now having finally opened your eyes, or closed them, depending upon your perspective".

Solona backed away from the man, not knowing if he was spirit, demon, or something else entirely. "What are you? You say you are the creator of the Fade…if so, you would have to be the Maker Himself!"

"What is this Fade you speak of, perhaps you speak of the world around us? This world is dream as am I, the place where mortals come to when they slumber. It is a world of my own creation where I have absolute control, or so I thought," he said gravely, casting a penetrating stare over the girl before him.

"The Fade was the first creation of the Maker, but he left it behind when He became dissatisfied with His works. If you created it…you must be the Maker, but that's impossible. They say the Maker abandoned the mortal world because of mankind's sin," Solona spoke to herself, studying the strange form of the man, spirit, god before her.

"You keep referencing this 'Maker'. There are many _makers_ each with their own role and task. If you speak of the Creator who reigns in heaven watching over the mortals, then I am not who you are referring to. I built this realm long ago and have watched it fall to ruin during my absence. That is the only truth of this particular world. To seek out the others you will need to seek out the other Endless, though besides my older sister, none will meet you willingly," the man said.

"But the Maker reigned in the Golden City until the Tevinter mages despoiled the grand city of god, or at least that's what the Chantry tells us," Solona argued, not sure of herself.

The man looked at her as if he could not comprehend the extent of her ignorance, "The Silver City you mean…and it is not corrupted or tainted. It remains as it always was, a haven of angels, the seat of creation".

"So what are you? God, spirit, or something else entirely?" Solona asked.

"As I said, I am Dream of the Endless. I have been called many things by many peoples as time has slowly moved forward. It would not be out of the range of possibility that the mortals of the world outside gave me the name of 'Fade'. I have lived long and seen much. Like the structure of this world, nothing is unchanging, not even the immortal," Dream spoke, his eyes surveying the shifting landscape of the Dreaming.

"And why did you say I stole something from you? I've never met you. I've never been to the Fade before," the mage questioned, staring in wonder at the figure before her.

"You have taken power that rightfully belongs to me as have many of your brethren in the outside world. It seems that mortals will never cease to grasp at what they cannot fathom and certainly cannot control," Dream said as he removed a pure-white hand from his cloak. "Now I will regain what has been taken".

His palm glowed with hidden power as Dream placed it on Solona's forehead, excruciating pain running through her body as tendrils of power sucked the magic from her writhing form. The pain only lasted an instant as she collapsed to the ground, only catching another glimpse of the man as vision left her eyes.

* * *

Solona rose from her cot suddenly, her panicked breaths filling the air as she placed her hands on her forehead, searching for the source that felt like it was drawing her soul in. Strong hands forced her down, and as she tried to struggle from the iron grip, her eyes met the cold eyes of a helmeted templar. "Release her!" a forceful voice called out. "I have many questions I wish her to answer".

Solona looked to the source of the voice, her eyes meeting the calculating eyes of the Knight-Commander. He stood with the First Enchanter, the elderly man's face grave as he looked upon the shaking, sweating form of his most promising pupil. "Solona…are you alright?" Irving said with concern. "No Harrowing has ever gone quite like yours before".

"And that is exactly why we are here," Greagoir spat with contempt. "The ritual ended with your body going rigid before you began screaming like some kind of monstrous creature. Red light surrounded you, and we prepared to slay your corrupted form, but the convulsions ended just as soon as they began. You collapsed and have been moved into confinement lest you prove to be a danger. Tell me…what happened in the Fade?"

Solona looked at him in confusion, trying to gather her thoughts, "I collapsed after my Harrowing…how, why?"

Greagoir grew increasingly annoyed as she tried to remember what happened in the Fade, "That is exactly why we brought you here. Tread carefully mage, you are under suspicion of harboring a demon. We are prepared to end your life if you refuse to cooperate".

"I don't really remember…I defeated the demon, and then something destroyed the pride demon," Solona said, trying to clear her clouded mind.

"Something? What?" Greagoir said in exasperation.

"I remember…he said…that he was the creator of the Fade, the embodiment of the world of dreams," she said slowly, the memories slowing coming back to her.

"What blasphemy is this? The Maker created the Fade before he moved on to construct this world," the Knight-Commander said aghast. "You claim you met the Maker in the Fade? Surely even you Irving can see that she has become at best unhinged and at worse possessed by a malevolent demon".

"What do you mean child? Who did you meet in the Fade, certainly not the Maker, maybe a spirit perhaps?" Irving questioned, his brow furrowed as he studied the recovering girl.

"He said he wasn't the Maker…he is Dream of the Endless, creator and ruler of the Fade. He said I had stolen something from him, and he took it back…there was so much pain," Solona said as she hugged her legs close to her body.

"He took what from you exactly?" Irving questioned.

"The power to draw from the Fade…his power," Solona said as she raised a hand, muttering a basic incantation as the templars leveled their weapons at her. Nothing happened. No tongue of flame rose from her palm, no magical energy surrounded her body.

"Maker's breath…she's lost the power to control magic. Now I know why she felt so strange…there's no evidence of magic within her at all," Greagoir said incredulously.

"Is it possible," Irving began with some hesitation, "that she really…"

Greagoir cut him off with a quick motion of his hand, "The Maker has left this world. Despite the ravings of this addled girl, there is no way she met our Lord and Creator. I will contact her reverence in Denerim and determine if there are any records or precedent speaking to this peculiar occurrence. The girl is not to be without guards when she leaves her room, and I will tolerate no rumormongering. Any mention of the Maker in connection with this incident will be considered blasphemy and punished accordingly".

As Greagoir left, Irving turned to Solona and studied her intently, "Can you tell me anything about what happened in the Fade? Can you explain it more clearly?"

"He was like a man only more…somehow. The Fade changed at his whim, the Black City became whole, demons were expunged. Go to the Fade and you will see. That's all I can say," Solona said, trying to explain her experience as simply as possible.

Irving looked at her with concern, but Solona knew the First Enchanter did not believe her, his expression more a result of fear that she may have been tainted by something in the Fade than from any real worry for her well-being. "You have been through quite an ordeal…try to rest and we will speak of this more at a later date".

* * *

Solona listened to Irving and slept, but her sleep was like the eternal rest of the dead, completely uninterrupted by the vibrant dreams that had once connected her mind to the Fade. Eventually she began moving around the tower again though always accompanied by templar guards poised to slay her should she show any sign of turning. Despite Greagoir's ban, rumors of her experience in the fade had spread throughout the apprentices and enchanters of the Circle, whispers of how she had encountered the Maker and how in His mercy He had saved her from the curse of magic. Everywhere she passed the eyes of the other mages were on her, some in wonder, some suspicious, and some envious. Even when she was alone in her room she felt a pair of eyes watching her, eyes like twin deep, dark pools with gems of glowing light submerged deep below the surface of each.

Although she slept serenely after her Harrowing, she increasingly felt worn down and exhausted, like she never received enough rest. Even the sleeping spells from the enchanters could not alleviate the overwhelming sense of tiredness she felt weighing on her mind, and she knew that many of the most experienced of the mages in the Circle were questioning what could be done for her. The cruelest of the Templars had made sure she was listening when they conversed in dark tones about inquisitors from the Chantry being sent to examine her, laughing as they spoke of her potential execution as a heretic or a lifetime of confinement in the mage's prison where maleficar and the falsely accused were left to be ripped apart by the abominations the Chantry kept as pets.

As she sat dozing in the pews of the tower chantry, one of the few places the sentinels constantly keeping watch over her begrudgingly let her be, a young girl approached her, face filled with nervousness but also what she thought looked like hopefulness. She vaguely recognized her from some of her classes, a quiet and mousy girl who never stood out and spent an inordinate amount of time praying in this vey room. "Excuse me, you are Solona Amell, am I right? The…the one who they say met the Maker in the Fade?" she stammered.

Solona frowned at her, wondering what the girl wanted with her, "Yes, I'm Solona. You do realize the Knight-Commander has attached a significant punishment for speaking just such words, don't you?"

"Yes…but I need to speak to you about it. Our magic…it is a curse you see, an evil stigma we have been marked with. I have prayed to the Maker always to save me from my curse to no avail, but if He has granted His mercy to you, perhaps He will look kindly on the rest of us," she said with a fire in her eyes bordering on obsession.

"_Ah, a religious fanatic…I see,_" Solona thought to herself, inwardly sighing at having to deal with such a fool. "I didn't meet the Maker in the Fade, those are just rumors. I really don't know what I met, but he took my power from me, claiming it was stolen from him long ago".

"But who could it have been then? The Maker created everything including the Fade. Magic stems from Him and is punishment for our shared sins. Please, I need to know how you managed to cleanse the magic from your soul. I don't want to carry this evil around with me…" the girl said before she was wrenched away by an angry templar.

"The Knight-Commander has made clear that any discussion of this mage's Harrowing will be seen as blasphemy and punished accordingly!" he raged as he twisted her arm around as she cried out in pain.

"You're hurting her! She didn't do anything, leave her alone!" Solona exclaimed before a swift, gauntleted backhand knocked her to the ground.

She placed a hand on her face in shock, looking at the blood from her split-lip coloring her palm a crimson red. "Be silent heretic," the cruel templar spoke. "Your punishment will come later".

As he reached for a short dagger on his belt, the girl pleaded and begged for mercy, struggling to apologize as the spasms of sobs shook she slight form. Solona glowered at the larger man, her body moving faster than her mind could keep up as she stopped him from plunging the dagger into the tearful girl's chest, "I won't let you kill her you murderous bastard!" she screamed as all thought of the stupidity of her actions disappeared from her mind.

She felt a pain in the back of her head as her vision blurred, the ground speedily approaching as she collapsed to the ground. She vaguely saw another templar standing above her, his shield spattered with her blood from the savage blow to her head. Her mind swam with disconnected images and thoughts, her anger at the templars mixed with sadness at her impending demise and a small sense of relief that she would finally be free. Now she could finally rest for eternity.

"It seems my absence from my realm has caused more damage in the world of mortals than I expected," a familiar voice spoke. Solona saw a blurry, dark shape approach the templars and place its outstretched hands on their heads, sending them collapsing to the ground. As she struggled to clear her vision, she saw two bright stars looking straight into her eyes as the figure knelt beside her, his presence seemingly bringing her back to consciousness and reducing the pain she felt in the back of her skull.

When her vision cleared completely, she was looking into the bottomless pools of his eyes, the twin stars focused upon hers as he studied her intently. He pulled Solona to her feet, shifting the constantly changing cloak around himself as Solona looked to all the people in the chantry, now slumped over asleep. "You…you're the one from the Fade," Solona said as she regained her bearings.

"Yes, I believed that by sequestering the small part of my power within you, I would be returning you to your proper place in things. It seems that despite my intentions mortal, I have unwittingly increased your personal difficulty substantially," the man spoke, looking upon the sleeping girl Solona had tried to save with great interest.

"Then what are you going to do? Are you going to restore my power to me?" Solona asked.

"Not your power. Mortals were never meant to wield the power of my station, to take for their own something that is beyond their capability to control. This world has become too closely connected with the Dreaming so that my creations can easily pass from my realm to the world of mortals. They are causing damage to this world, damage that will take time to repair, but I have time. For the Endless, time is something my siblings and I have in abundance. I thought I should inform you of this if for nothing else the trouble I caused you," Dream spoke as he studied the girl, placing a hand on her chest as his eyes flashed as bright as the sun.

"What did you do to her?" Solona asked accusingly, taking a threatening step forward.

The same thing I did to you…what she desired if her dreams are to be believed," Dream answered, the flames on his cloak shifting in appearance to shapes almost like mournful faces. The man turned away from the unconscious girl, parting the very fabric of space as he stepped into another world before Solona reached out and grabbed a handful of the strange cloth of his cloak.

"You're just going to leave, just like that? What are we supposed to do when the templars find me with those two, huh," she said, pointing at the sleeping forms of her attackers. "They'll kill us you know!"

"And what would you have me do, mortal?" the man asked, looking back at her with his penetrating gaze.

"Take us somewhere, someplace away from here. Far away," Solona asked, not really knowing where she wanted to go.

"As you wish," he answered, darkness suddenly surrounding her before a cascade of images strange and fantastic surrounded her. She could not focus on the torrent of images taking every shape, color, and form as they traveled through the Dreaming before she felt her feet land on solid ground.

She looked around her, seeing huge, glittering towers rise all around her, crowds of people milling about unconcerned with the wondrous buildings standing around them. "Where are we?" she said in disbelief, as her eyes traveled over the vast expanse of the city before her.

"Somewhere far away," Dream said. "I bid you farewell, mortal. Perhaps this world will be more kind to you than your old one".

No one seemed to notice him as the personification of dream ripped open a portal and stepped through it, the hole in creation lasting only a second before disappearing entirely. The girl at her feet stirred, her eyes slowly opening as she looked around herself in confusion. "Where are we?" she said in fear and wonder as she beheld the spires of light before her. "I though the templars would kill us for sure. I prayed to the Maker to save us, but…I despaired for a second at the end, believing He would not turn His gaze to us".

"Well…maybe your prayers were answered, by someone at least," Solona said thoughtfully before she pulled the girl along as they walked out into the night of a new world.

* * *

**A/N: I thought it would be interesting if characters from Dragon Age, who come from a world where the god is presumably absent, met godlike beings from another world. I thought about writing a story with each member of the Endless with a different origin, but I don't know at the moment how that would really work. I think I am still going to do a story involving Death, but I don't know about the other Endless at the moment. I hope you like it.**


	2. Death

Death

Glassy eyes stared out into the fading light, the milky orbs seeing nothing. A buzzing fly landed on the unseeing eye, skittering around before movement startled the pest from its feast. Bodies lined the darkened room, the smell of death and embalming fluid wafting in the stale air as dozens of sightless eyes seemed to watch the creeping pair, their movements measured and stealthy. One of the shadowed figures paused over the corpse of a woman who might have been called beautiful in life, her pale skin now stretched taut over bones, once silky hair now a brittle mess. The body was well dressed, silk and velvet draped over its shrunken form with gold and jewelry sewn into the luxurious fabric. With practiced skill, the figure maneuvered a small knife under the priceless gemstones, cutting the tread and pocketing the freed jewels.

The second figure stood a few feet behind the other, his head constantly swiveling as he nervously watched for any signs of activity that might disturb their macabre task. "Kallian…do you think we should really be doing this," he asked, voice quivering as wide eyes moved from shadow to shadow.

"Relax Soris, you know there aren't any shems who come by here at this time. I mean, who wants to spend any time around the dead as it is?" the girl said impatiently, checking the body for any loose coin she could appropriate.

"Even if no one comes around…don't you think this is wrong somehow, stealing from the dead?" Soris whimpered, avoiding her heated gaze.

"It's not like they are going to need it," she said with a grunt as she struggled to rip off a silver brooch. "And like I even give a damn about a bunch of sodding shems. I wish more of them would drop dead…save us all a lot of trouble".

Denerim's upper classes paid well to have their bodies preserved, a trend that originated with the Orlesian occupiers whose concern with appearances endured even after death. Kallian supported the practice wholeheartedly, her enthusiasm shared by the capital's assorted cutpurses and brigands who relished the chance to come by some easy coin. Guards were supposed to watch over the morgue and prevent any unscrupulous mourners, but hiring guards cost a great deal, a price many of the purveyors of these popular establishments balked at. They believed, rightly it seemed, that the vapid nobles and merchants would be satisfied with the ghastly perversion of life they offered and not question the few valuables that went missing under their care.

Kallian continued moving about the rows of corpses, her hands constantly searching pockets for coin and roving over fabric for valuable baubles. Stopping at the last body, she looked into the sunken eyes of a girl near to her age, her skin ravaged by evidence of plague, expensive clothes hanging off her emaciated body like some kind of monstrous doll. A tinge of pity briefly flashed in her cold eyes as she looked upon the poor girl, a small amount of shame rising within her as she studied the girl who died far before her time. She was an innocent, someone who did not deserve to die so young, someone who had not been stricken with the curse of time that seemed to harden human hearts and turn them into spiteful, cruel tyrants. Her expression darkened as the hateful voice began whispering in her mind, reminding her what this girl would have one day become, just another oppressor of her family and fiends.

She moved on, not willing to risk stealing from a body so clearly infected by an extremely contagious disease. She would leave the gold chain around her neck and diamond encrusted rings hanging loosely off her bony fingers to a more desperate thief. The movement of a shadow caught her eye just as she forced Soris to the ground, her finger pressed to her lips as she held her breath. A figure in the doorway held a lantern, shining a pale light over the rows of corpses. Kallian and Soris stayed low to the ground, tensing as the light passed over them. They relaxed as the light continued on, the figure in the doorway apparently satisfied that no intruders were present as the door shut with an eerie creak.

"Kallian…I think we should get out of here. That was too close," Soris whispered, fear coloring his shaking voice.

"All right you crybaby," an annoyed Kallian responded, stuffing the last of the jewelry into the pockets of her ragged tunic. "Keep your hood up, we don't want any of the shems knowing were elves. It might cause problems in the alienage".

The pair left the room quickly, grimacing as the door creaked loudly as they snuck past. They kept to the shadows, slipping past drunken humans more concerned with playing cards and drinking too many pints than actually doing the job the nobles paid them for. The danger did not cease once they left the morgue as the trash-strewn streets of Denerim were perilous enough for humans and veritable deathtraps for the elf unfortunate enough to be caught alone. Dodging the occasional group of drunken revelers and watchful thieves waiting patiently to take advantage of their intoxicated state, they ran through the market district and to the gates of the alienage just as the last rays of sunlight vanished behind the rolling plains.

The guard scowled at them as they approached, an expectant look on his face as Kallian tossed him a few of her collected treasures. He nodded as a greedy smirk marred his ruddy face, his rodent-like eyes scrutinizing the jewels as Kallian and Soris made it to safety surrounded by the high walls of the alienage. Kallian resented having to give up a portion of her hard earned but ill-gotten gains, but she figured that making less was far better than being arrested. Those who failed to pay up often found the city guards knocking at their door, and no elf could ever expect a fair trial in this city if they even received one at all. Her mother liked to refer to this system of bribery as the cost of doing business, but Kallian still fumed every time she had to lay eyes on those dirty rats.

Looking forward, she saw soft light sending a warm glow through the window of her home and the unmistakable silhouette of her father standing outside, his arms crossed and his faced obscured in the darkness. Even unable to see his face, Kallian could discern from the tension in the way he was standing that she was in trouble but could not stifle a giggle as Soris seemed to shrink away next to her. Obviously he was not looking forward to the lecture that was sure to come.

Approaching the stoic figure, she looked away from the stern face of her father in embarrassment, the disappointment evident in Cyrion's face more of a punishment than any lecture or chores could be. She stood in front of him with her head bowed while Soris looked deathly pale, like he would be sick at any moment. "Soris…you're parents are waiting for you," Cyrion said imperiously, fixing the boy with a hard look.

Soris stammered something incomprehensible and quickly retreated while Kallian watched his departure with a tinge of pity, not envying the treatment he would probably receive at the hands of his parents. She returned her gaze to the ground but finally looked into her father's eyes when he refused to address her. "Father…." She began before he cut her off.

"I believed I have told you many times before, Kallian Tabris, that leaving the alienage for who knows where is not acceptable, and yet you continue to defy me," she said quietly, no anger present in his voice.

"Father, I just want to help. I don't want…" she trailed off as Cyrion placed his hands on her shoulders, his strong grip firm but not painful.

"I know you mean well, Kallian, but you don't know how dangerous it is beyond these walls. This is not a game; the humans will hurt you without a second thought. Thank the Maker it has not happened yet, but if you keep this up, someday you will learn how dangerous what you are doing really is," Cyrion lectured sternly, worry reflected in his eyes.

"I'm always careful!" she protested. "The shems don't need this stuff anyway; the whole lot of them are filthy rich!"

"It does not matter if you're careful. Even if you manage to stay out of trouble, you are risking Soris as well by taking him with you. What would you do if Soris were caught? It is not just your safety you risk when you do such things but also the safety of your family and everyone in the alienage. The humans are always looking for a reason to make trouble here; you must not give them a reason," he insisted as Kallian looked away with a look of shame and anger.

"Why should we hide here and keep her heads down!" she raged. "Mother wouldn't let the shems walk all over her!"

"Your mother is older and understands the danger better than you," he said dismissively but with the hint of a smile at the mention of Adaia. She was probably struggling to stay in the house and not rush to the defense of her daughter. Cyrion had pleaded with her to let him talk to Kallian first, so her could impress upon her the way her actions made them worry and how his rules were for her own good. "And about stealing from the humans…not all of them are rich. Most are worse off than us. Rationalizing stealing by saying that some are richer or more blessed than you is the last refuge of a wretched heart. I do not want to hear you saying such things in the future".

Kallian pouted as Cyrion placed a hand under her chin and gently turned her head to face him. She saw the joy and relief in his eyes as she looked at him, his arms encircling her as he knelt to the ground to encompass her slight form in a tight embrace. "Please Kallian, if only for the love of your mother, please stop doing things like this," he pleaded.

"I promise," Kallian said in a small voice, wrapping her own arms around her father's shoulders.

Cyrion guided Kallian into their home as Adaia stepped aside to let the pair enter. Kallian glanced at her and saw the mischievous spark in her eye, her mouth curled into a slight smirk, a smile she secretly returned before looking away quickly. "You weren't too hard on her were you Cyrion?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"Kallian needs to learn that her actions do not just affect her but could have consequences for everyone around her," Cyrion said sternly.

Adaia pulled Kallian into a hug, smiling brilliantly at Cyrion whose cold bearing seemed to melt under her gaze. "Don't blame her for taking after me. I don't know what I would have done if our kid turned into a dour, gloomy downer like you," she shot back jokingly, grasping his hand and pulling him closer.

"Well, at least one of us has to be a responsible parent," he said wryly, embracing her as she held Kallian.

"Hey, I'm just teaching her what she needs to know to survive out there on the streets," she objected, playfully punching her husband in the arm.

"Teaching? More like instigating," he said with a laugh.

"Whatever you say, dear," she said dismissively. "Well Kallian, let's see what you hauled in today".

"This is exactly the sort of encouragement that makes her do things like this," an exasperated Cyrion protested.

As Kallian began emptying her pockets of stolen treasure, Adaia moved her face close to Cyrion's and whispered, "You can't baby her forever. She needs to learn how hard of a world we live in. You can only shelter her from it for so long".

Cyrion's eyes took on a serious look as he gazed at his beloved wife and child, "Maybe so, but I will protect her as long as I can".

* * *

Kallian knocked on the door of her cousins' house, the structure not as large or well constructed as her own home. She knew that her family was rather well off compared to most of the residents of the alienage, and that this tended to create some resentment and jealousy among the other elves. Even her aunt and uncle sometimes commented on it, probably believing that Cyrion should share his good fortune more readily. Such an attitude caused the anger to rise within her as her father was a generous and charitable man who did not turn away those who were down on their luck and needed some spare coin to get through hard times. Kallian found that paradoxically, the more you helped someone, the more they resented you and secretly despised you. She loved her father and had gotten into more than a few fights with some of the other kids around the alienage who parroted their parent's false complaints about him.

Soris came to the door, a red welt evident on his cheek as he looked away in embarrassment. "That looks painful, how hard did your dad hit you?" Kallian asked with concern, feeling a little responsible since Soris got punished for following her.

"It's nothing. How'd you end up?" Soris asked.

"My father just had a little talk with me. Nothing other than that," she answered as her cheeks took on a shade of pink.

"You always get off without getting punished. I don't know how you do it," Soris said with a hint of jealousy.

"Well if your own parents won't give you a good beating, maybe I should knock some sense into you," Soris' mother said as she suddenly appeared behind the suddenly frozen boy, Shianni following with a mixed look of apprehension and smugness. "You're exactly like Adaia, always the little terror. If you don't watch it's going to come back and bite you someday".

Kallian pulled Soris from the doorway and took off, dragging her shocked cousin behind her. She yelled back with a grin, "I'm glad I'm like my mother! Maybe if you weren't so mean to Soris, he wouldn't be such a pushover!"

Shianni giggled before a sharp look from her mother caused her to shrink back. "Just wait until I get my hands on that little brat…I'll teach her. I should go have a talk with her mother in the meantime about how to raise a proper child," she fumed, watching the pair run off.

"So Kallian…what are we going to do today?" her unwilling tagalong said apprehensively.

"Father made me promise never to go looking for trouble again, so we're just going to sell the stuff from last night and then I'm done for good," she answered cheerfully.

She left the gates of the alienage with Soris in hand and proceeded through the market district to the docks. As they passed, humans gave them a wide berth, rechecking their coin purses to make sure they had not been pick pocketed as they shot dark looks at the two elven children. Kallian secretly fumed as she tried to avoid the scowls of the passersby, not wishing to cause an incident by returning the insulting looks of the humans. Elves were not welcome in the market district even if they had coin, the stereotypes of elves as dirty beggars and opportunistic thieves too damaging of a reputation to overcome. She had even heard stories of human peddlers who took payment from elven customers only to call for guards and accuse the unfortunate elf of robbery. In order to survive, the elves of the alienage resorted to a much seedier and dangerous method of acquiring the goods they needed by making use of the extensive black market that existed on the fringes of Denerim's economy.

Arriving in a blighted section of the city near the docks, Kallian and Soris moved quickly through an alleyway lined with decrepit buildings, hidden eyes looking out at them from boarded up windows. They came to a halt at a particularly dilapidated townhouse, the many leveled structure leaning dangerously so much so that it looked as if it would collapse at any moment. Garbage and refuse surrounded the building, the rotting stench something Kallian often believed would permanently damage her sense of smell. Walking up the creaking stairs to the sagging veranda, Kallian again considered how hard it was to believe that such a rundown building could house one of the most influential and feared men in Denerim's criminal underworld. It was here that the city's thieves and murderers went to settle their debts and receive payment for their services. This unassuming building was the dark counterpart to the soaring palace of Denerim's noble district, a manor that served as the seat of power for Denerim's dark king.

For now though, the only person in the building was the old pawnbroker, mouth full of rotting, blackened teeth set permanently in a sneer, his cruel eyes the color of the ocean during a storm, white, grizzled hair emerging from his mottled head in tufts. He leered at Kallian, looking her over with a predatory stare as a shiver ran down her back. "Come to make an exchange, girl?" he rasped.

She poured out the contents of her bag as Soris stood behind her with a fearful look. He had never been with her when she came to this part of town before, and she sympathized with his discomfort, as if she had the choice, she would never come back here either. "How much can you give me for all this?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady.

He scrutinized each jewel with a discerning eye, checking to see if the gold and silver baubles were real and not forged from some lesser metal. After sorting through the assorted jewelry, he nodded in satisfaction and again snapped his gaze back to Kallian's nervous face. "Quite a fine collection you got here. Been busy in the noble district it seems. All together…I can give you two sovereigns for the lot," he wheezed, his voice barely rising over a whisper.

"Two sovereigns? There's enough gold there to melt down to make at least five and that's not even counting all the jewels," Kallian protested, anger flashing in her eyes.

"The old man slammed his gnarled hand on the table before him as Kallian flinched visibly, his eyes filled with rage and his mouth curled into a snarl. "You knife ears think you can come in here and tell me what this sodding trash is worth? You're lucky you even get that much! Who do you think melts this Maker damned junk down, and how much do you think that costs? Huh, you little knife eared brat?" he bellowed.

Kallian blushed in anger and embarrassment, the hateful voice in her mind screaming to teach this disrespectful shem a lesson but the child within completely unprepared for such an outburst. "I…I'm sorry, I'll take the two sovereigns," she said quietly, tears beginning to blur her vision.

The pawnbroker clicked his tongue in an annoyed fashion as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of tarnished gold coins, tossing them across the table to Kallian. She picked them up and quickly turned away, grabbing Soris' hand and racing away from the decaying townhouse. She did not stop running until they had returned to the edge of the market district, her hand still tightly clenched around Soris'. Her cousin looked at her in concern and asked, "Kallian are you okay? Don't worry about what that shem said…I was pretty scared too".

Kallian looked back to her cousin with a misty gaze, tears of shame and rage falling from her icy blue eyes. "Mom…my mother wouldn't have taking that from that sodding shem. She would have shown him. Someday…I'll show all these shems, and they'll pay for pushing us around," she seethed as her shoulders quivered from the sobs.

Soris hugged Kallian as she cried, but he was unable to staunch the tears welling in his own eyes. A shadowed figure watched them from afar, pitying eyes taking in their sadness and pain before turning away.

* * *

Kallian had composed herself by the time they reentered the alienage gates, but her eyes were still red and her cheeks puffy from the falling tears. The blood red sun sat low in the sky, casting long shadows as the fiery star began to disappear below the high walls of the alienage. The elven district was always dark, the suns rays only penetrating into the enclosed space for a few hours of the day. The darkness was an apt metaphor for the gloom and desperation that followed many of the residents of the alienage, the fatalistic outlook of many only deepening the shadow that constantly lay over the blighted community.

The girl's eyes narrowed as she saw many people standing outside her home, many holding bits of cloth to their faces as if they were trying to dry tears. A sense of fear gripped Kallian's body as she approached the crowd, their eyes widening and their voices becoming hushed as she came closer. She heard Soris' mother call for her father inside the house, her face a pale mask as Kallian's uncle placed a hand on his wife's and Shianni's shoulders. Cyrion emerged from the doorway looking like Kallian had never seen him before. He looked broken, defeated, his face ashen, and his eyes dead and emotionless. His gaze pierced through her, those dead eyes seeming to freeze the blood running through her veins as the fear rising in Kallian make each step more difficult to take.

He walked slowly out to meet her, deliberate steps like those of a man walking toward the gallows for his execution. He enveloped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground like she was only a baby despite the dozen years she had spent alive in this world. As he carried her to the house through the grim throng of onlookers, she managed to whisper, "Father…what's wrong? Why are all these people standing outside our house? Where's mom?"

Her father's face took on an agonized look of pain at the last question, but his visage quickly returned to a stony, expressionless mask. As he remained silent, Kallian looked to the tearful face of her cousin who avoided her gaze and buried her face into her mother's dress. Cyrion stopped at the door and looked straight at his daughter, a torrent of emotion threatening to spill forth as he tried to keep his voice steady, "Kallian…you are a big girl now, so I want you to stay calm. Your mother…she was attacked earlier today…when you were with Soris".

Kallian felt like her heart had burst as she managed to speak in a strangled voice, "Where is she? Is she alright?" She struggled to look in the darkened doorway of her home, searching for any sign of her.

Cyrion walked into the house and shut the door slowly behind them. He lowered his daughter to the ground and held her shoulders while look straight at her. Kallian wanted to turn her eyes away from his gaze but could not, mesmerized by those deep pools filled with sorrow, remorse, and fear. They were not the eyes of her father she remembered, eyes that were stern but held a spark of laughter. The laughter was gone now, replaced by regret and twin flames of rage. "Your mother…she didn't make it. She is gone…Kallian".

Kallian felt numb, like her mind had been doused in ice water so that her whole body was paralyzed. She did not even feel her legs slowly carrying her into the bedroom as her father guided her there gently. The shape of a body lay under a white sheet, patches of blood staining the pure white of the cloth. Kallian moved to pull the shroud from her face, but Cyrion quickly took hold of her thin wrist and stopped her. "It's better that you do not look," he said.

She had seen others in the alienage react to the death of a loved one, their wails of sorrow and loud sobs always striking her as contrived and only for show. She felt no need to cry or scream, her pain was far beyond the ability of tears and cries of despair to relieve. No trace of tears remained on her father's face, so she would be strong like him and not break down completely. She gripped her arms tightly around his body as she hid her face in his chest. He returned her embrace, picking up her slight form and placing her on his lap, her arms encircling around his neck as the two sat for what seemed like an endless moment.

"Who did this?" she asked in barely a whisper, her face still buried in his chest.

"A group of humans coming from a tavern. They were drunk and looking for a target. Your mother tried to put up a fight, but there were too many. A few of elves were there at the time saw it happen, but they could not doing anything for her," he explained slowly.

"Why didn't they help her?" she said, anger rising in her voice.

He sighed, looking far older than he had a few hours ago, "It is hard to ask someone to lay their life on the line to save someone else. You cannot blame them even though you want to. The ones to blame are only those who did this".

"Where are they…the bastard shems who did it then?" she raged, not even caring about using such coarse language in front of her father.

A look of concern passed over his face as his expression darkened, "Kallian…I know how you must be feeling, but you _must_ not do anything dangerous. I want you to stay here in the alienage for the time being and not leave the gates".

Kallian looked at her father in shock, not believing that he would allow the shems to just get away with this, to keep his head down and pretend like nothing happened. She pushed him away, her face twisting into an angry glare as she said quietly, "Those shems, you can't actually want to let them get away with this! They killed mom, don't you understand!"

Cyrion attempted to placate her, reaching his hand out to hers but she slapped it away in disgust. Her voice began rising to a shrill pitch as all her anger and sorrow burst forth like a flow of lava, her screams reverberating around the tiny room. "Don't you even care about mom? How can you let those bastards go unpunished!" she yelled, her slight body shaking as Cyrion stood motionless, unable to move to comfort her. "You…you never even loved mom! If you loved her you'd want revenge! If you won't…I'll make sure that those bastards suffer!"

After she finished her outburst, she flinched at the sight of her father, those eyes full of sadness and regret. She could not face him after saying those words, so she ran, slamming open the door and pushing through the crowd. The young girl did not bother to look behind to see if anyone followed as she sprinted away, her rapid steps taking her far away from the alienage, far from the scene of such horror, far away from the gaze of her father. She continued to run but all the pain and self-loathing within her continued to follow. Kallian found herself in an area she was not familiar with, stained walls of abandoned buildings rising around her like a prison as the angry sun dipped lower in the sky, bathing the area in shadow.

Kallian bit her lip as the tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She smashed her fists into the hard stonewall she leaned against, feeling her bones grind and watching as the skin was torn off her knuckles, leaving a splatter of blood as she continued to futilely punch at the unyielding wall. She felt tired, the exertion of running all this way and now wailing away at the harsh stone turning her breaths into ragged gasps. Eventually, Kallian stopped, her hands bleeding profusely as her chest heaved from exhaustion. She wretched as nausea began to rise within her, the strong emotions beginning to take a toll on her body.

"You know," a teasing voice said from behind her, "if I had to pick a side in a fight between you and that wall, I think I would have to take the wall".

Kallian whirled around, surprise in her eyes as she beheld a young woman with pale skin and bushy, black hair with strands falling across her face. Her eyes were very dark, her irises and pupils seemingly black pools of water, but the warmth emanating from them gave Kallian a strange sense of reassurance. The black eye shadow around her eyes gave them a slanted appearance, and a strange tattoo in the shape of a spiral graced the underside of her right eye. She was dressed in unusual clothes, tight black pants hugging her thin legs and a rather revealing shirt held only by two thin strings over the shoulders covering her torso. A silver necklace bearing an unfamiliar charm was draped over her chest, the symbol appearing like a cross with a loop replacing one end. She was not very tall for a human, being of a very thin build more akin to one of elven descent than the burly humans she was used to.

All Kallian saw was one of the hated shems, however, so she lashed out with one bloodied fist, her mouth curled into a snarl as she sought to take out her anger on this human who dared to interrupt her grieving. The woman caught her hand with relative ease, her expression still graced with a mischievous smile as she grabbed Kallian's other hand in mid-punch as well. Kallian strained to break free, but the woman was unexpectedly strong for someone with such a slight and wiry frame. Her smile faltered as she looked at Kallian's injured hands, blood dripping onto her own as she continued to hold the struggling girl.

"It's an improvement that you're trying to hit me now rather than that wall, but you might not want to with these injuries," the woman said with concern.

"What in the sodding Maker's name do you care, shem?" she spat, still unable to free her arms from vice of the woman's grip.

"Well I guess you're free to bleed all over the place if you want," she shot back in a sarcastic tone, "or you can come with me and we can get you fixed up".

"I don't want a shem's help!" she said in revulsion, turning her gaze away from the woman.

The woman sighed in exasperation, "Kallian, don't make this difficult. Night is falling and the alienage gates will have already closed. Do you really want to be alone out here all night in your condition?"

"The girl's eyes snapped back to the grinning woman's face in shock as she stammered, "How do you know my name?"

The woman laughed, "I know everyone Kallian, well at the end at least".

"What do you mean? I've never met you before in my life!" Kallian objected.

"Maybe you just don't remember," she said pleasantly, now pulling the girl along with her.

"Hey, I told you I wasn't going with you!" she retorted feebly as she grudgingly followed behind the woman.

"Well you seem to be coming with me," she joked, giggling at the girl's attitude.

"Only because I can't get away from you," Kallian said under her breath. "Well since I'm being forced to follow, why don't you tell me your name, shem?"

"Oh, I'm Death," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Is that some kind of joke?" Kallian responded darkly.

"No joke, that's my name or what most people call me anyway," she continued.

"What kind of idiot parents would name their kid such a stupid name?" Kallian said sarcastically.

"People give names to things so they are better able to grasp them, like…you can't see, feel, taste, or touch love, but you know what it is by its name. Something like that anyway," Death said as her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to think up an explanation.

"That made no sense," Kallian deadpanned.

"Huh, my sister always thought my explanations were very enlightening," she responded with a shrug.

"I hope you're not going to tell me about your family now," Kallian groaned as they continued to walk along, passersby shooting them suspicious looks as the human woman dragged the bleeding elven girl behind her.

"Well if you insist," Death said with delight. " I have one older brother, but he's pretty boring to be around. My one younger brother's been moping around for a while now, so I had to go see him to try to snap him out of it. Then there's my other younger brother who I haven't seen in a while, the twins who are always causing trouble, and my little sister. So I have six brothers and sisters in total".

"Must be tough on your parents," Kallian said in a bratty way.

"We don't have any parents, not in the way you think of anyway," Death explained.

Kallian narrowed her eyes at this and said bitterly, "Well we've all lost people we love, haven't we?"

"It's true," Death nodded. "But death can't exist without life. You should remember the happy times and not dwell on what can't be changed".

"I could have shared more happy times with her if it hadn't been for those sons of shems," Kallian seethed, her one free hand curling painfully into a fist.

"Such things are better left to the care of Destiny," she urged softly. "We all have our roles to fulfill and seldom can we decide how our lives should go".

Kallian fell silent at this, continuing to follow quietly after the older woman as she seemed to effortlessly cut a path through the crowds of humans swarming around the market district.

She stopped at a rundown but comfortable looking inn, opening the door with a creak as the innkeeper looked up with a warm smile. "Didi, you're back. I hope you didn't get into too much trouble out there. You're parents would never forgive me if I let something happen to you".

"Don't worry, I'm fine. I had something important to take care of," she said with a smile, pulling Kallian into the inn as she avoided the gaze of the innkeeper.

The man scowled at the elven girl, his eyes scrutinizing her with distaste. "Didi, you know how I feel about them knife ears coming in here…lot of thieves they are. Leave the trash outside where you found it".

Kallian stiffened, her mouth opening to voice a scathing remark, but Death quickly placed a finger across her lips, bidding her to be silent. "Gramps, she's just a kid and she's hurt. Can't you make an exception this one time, for me?" she asked with pleading eyes.

The man's stony gaze faltered at her request, the ice in his eyes melting as he looked into the woman's warm eyes. "Sod, I can never say no to you. Just make sure she ain't stealing nothing. I don't have so much that I can let it be pilfered by the odd knife-ear".

Death pulled Kallian along to her room, the girl venting once they were upstairs, "What an ass. Are all shems such sodding bastards? And anyway, what'd he call you, Didi? Why'd you make me call you Death?"

"You can call me that name if you want, but anyway Kallian, not all humans are bad people. Just holding prejudices doesn't make you a bad person. A person can be the kindest and most gentle person in the world and still have terrible, bigoted beliefs. Instead of despising them for their wrongly held beliefs, you should try to change them," she chastised gently.

"And how, may I ask, am I going to do that, huh?" she said contemptuously.

"I don't know, but only complaining about it and not doing anything to stop it isn't going to change anything," she said, wrapping gauze around Kallian's battered hands. "Believe me I know, my brothers are always whining about things and acting like spoiled toddlers rather than trying to solve their problems".

Kallian was silent for a moment before she whispered, "My mom was killed today by shems just because she was an elf". Death's eyes avoided Kallian's for a brief instant before returning as the girl's voice rose, "Were they not bad people? Did my mother deserve to die? The innkeeper is exactly like them, it's the way they think about us as worthless that makes it so easy to inflict such cruelty on us!"

Death finished tying the gauze around Kallian's hands, the white cloth standing out from the girl's tanned skin. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been saying such things so soon after your loss," the woman said quietly. "I just don't want you to be filled with so much anger and hate. Life is too short to spend it focused on hate. You still have others in your life you love right, just like I have my brothers and sisters, even if they are a tad annoying sometimes".

Kallian wanted to hate the human woman before her, just another shem who felt nothing about hurting her kind, but found that she could not. "It's not your fault," she said, avoiding her gaze as she blushed in embarrassment.

Death smiled at her, pulling her off of the bed as she moved over to a glass jar containing a gold and an orange fish. She tossed some flakes into the jar, the two fish rising to the surface to collect the flakes as Kallian watched. "Those two are my fish, the fat one's Slim and the smaller one is Wandsworth. I thought I should feed them before we go out," she said.

"Going out? I thought we were staying here until I could go home," Kallian said hesitantly, not wanting to go out at night in the city proper.

"No silly, why should we stay all cooped up like this? We should go out and find something to do," she urged.

Kallian acquiesced reluctantly, following the woman as they exited the establishment, the innkeeper warning her companion to be careful while also casting a suspicious glance at the elven girl. They walked out into the bright lights of the market district, the stalls still bustling with activity even at night. Lanterns were tied along crisscrossed strings spanning the length of the town square, lighting the area as if it were daytime. Kallian looked in wonder over all of the activity, amazed that the bazaar seemed even busier than in the day.

They continued to wander around the many stalls selling a myriad of goods, the usually suspicious peddlers not even giving Kallian a second glace as Death pulled her along. Merchants from every corner of Thedas were present in the Denerim market, Orlesians, Antivans, even sellers from as far away as Tevinter. Fine silks, exotic fruits, and sparkling jewelry were all on display, items Kallian had never seen during her trips through the market during the day.

Her guide stopped at a stall bearing some particularly delicious looking food consisting of flaky bread filled with cream and fruit filling, the heavenly aroma wafting around the area. "How much for two of these," Death asked, her eyes looking over the assorted desserts they offered.

The peddler eyed Kallian with a patronizing look and she readied herself for the inevitable refusal to serve a "knife ear". "Don't usually serve to elves, but you know, it's been a good night for business. You can have them on the house," he said jovially, handing over two of the pastries.

Kallian's eyes widened in surprise at this turn of events, not expecting to be served let alone getting the delectable food free. Death thanked the peddler with a brilliant smile as he refused her thanks graciously. She bit into the pastry greedily, the jelly running down her chin as she tasted something more delicious than she had ever experienced before. "Well he was nice, wasn't he?" her companion said pleasantly, turning an expectant look to Kallian.

"I guess…for a shem," she admitted reluctantly.

Their night continued in much the same way, Death seeming to have an uncanny ability to acquire anything she wanted at no cost to the pair. To Kallian, the whole situation seemed rather spooky, almost as if the people she met were entranced by her presence, but Death passed it off as the general response of people to be kind to people who were kind to them.

As the sky began to grow brighter as the sun rose to just below the horizon, the pair came to their last stop. Death had spotted a rather garish looking hat complete semi-precious stones and colorful feathers apparently of Orlesian origin. She had gushed about her love for such things, and given the many scattered around her room, Kallian believed she might have a mild obsession. As they approached, Kallian said, "Why don't we just skip to the part where you give it to her free".

The peddler fixed her with a strange look as she said that it would cost twenty silver. Kallian was shocked but Death seemed nonplussed, reaching into her pocket but only producing a handful of silver and two bits. Slightly put-out, she shrugged and said, "Oh well" before Kallian stepped in front of her, intending to pay for the hat as a sign of gratitude for the night, but found her pocket empty.

"Sod! Some cutpurse stole my two sovereigns!" she cursed, trying to remember any seedy looking characters that brushed by them during the night.

Death gave her a sympathetic look, saying cryptically, "I think I know how to make it up to you" before guiding her to a nearby tavern in an attempt to cheer her up as the girl seethed. They entered and she ordered them two breakfasts, using all of her remaining silver and leaving the two bits on the tabletop. The tavern was empty except for a group of men whose eyes resembled snakes more than humans. Apparently they had spent all night here given their drunken states complete with coarse language and overall boorish behavior. Kallian tried to ignore them, but a few words stood out as she tried not to listen. "That knife eared bitch was a feisty one, huh?" one of the disgusting men said as the others guffawed in laughter. "Don't meet one as good looking as that everyday, and we didn't even have to pay for her. You know me, I love them knife ears. The guards don't even care what you do to them".

The color drained out of Kallian's face as she heard these comments. Her body began shaking as the monster within her began to slowly rise up. One of the drunken thugs laid eyes on the only other two patrons of the tavern and motioned to his fellows whose faces all contorted into leering smirks. Stumbling forward, the large man slammed his hands down on the table, his breath smelling of stale beer, as his cruel eyes studied the pair. "Greetings ladies," he slurred. "Just wondering if you'd like the pleasure of entertaining me and my boys".

Death's smile remained firmly on her face even as her expression darkened while she said firmly to the man, "It would be a pleasure if you could leave us alone please".

"Don't be like that bitch," he said dangerously, grabbing her arm and twisting it painfully. "The knife ear might be a tad young, but she has to learn sooner or later, don't you think?"

Kallian's knife was in her hand faster than the man could react and was slicing through his throat before he could blink. As blood spattered onto the table and the man's wet gurgle filled the room, Kallian had already jumped forward and ran her knife into the second man. Rage clouded her vision as all she could think about was killing these bastards for what they had done to her mother. The drunken reflexes of the third man were easily overcome by the girl despite her youth, her knife breaking off in his chest as he fell to the ground bearing dozens of stab wounds.

Now unarmed, Kallian faced down the final thug with fury running through her tiny frame. She lunged at him, landing several blows before he grabbed her arm and twisted her around in a headlock. Lifting her off the ground and pulling a rusty dagger from his belt, his hot breath slipped past her ear as he laughed and said, "Am I going to have some fun with you".

Kallian struggled in vain to break free as the blade of the dagger moved closer to her skin, her eyes closing as tears fell down her cheeks. She fell to the ground painfully a moment later, opening her eyes to see Death landing a punishing strike into the jaw of the larger man, his rotten teeth flying everywhere. He stumbled backward as if stunned, but Kallian saw that it was only a feint, the man apparently used to brawls of this character. She opened her mouth to scream out a warning but her words were transformed into a strangled gasp as the fiend buried his dagger into the chest of the woman, her eyes displaying shock as she reached up to hold the dagger to her chest.

Kallian pulled a knife from one of the bloodied bodies, screaming in rage as she charged the man. He attempted to rip his dagger from the chest of the woman, but she held fast without yielding. His beady eyes widened in terror as he fell back, the knife slicing through his throat with the wet slap of torn flesh against hardened steel. He collapsed on the ground, holding his throat in a futile effort to staunch the fountain of blood bursting forth from severed arteries. Kallian stabbed him in the back of the head, holding his face to the ground as she slammed the blade down again and again until her arm felt numb from the pain.

Sprawled out among the pools of blood, Kallian's breathing gradually slowed down to a normal pace as she crawled toward the fallen woman. Turning her over, she checked for any signs of life but found none, her body growing colder by the moment, the dagger pierced straight through her heart. She sniffed before a manic chuckle left her mouth as she quipped, "It seems like death has been following me around all day". She did not find it funny or ironic, but she had cried enough and had no more tears to shed. Since she could not cry, all she could do was laugh.

Taking the two bits from the bloodstained table, her hand seemed to move on its own volition as she placed the coins over the eyes of Death. As she did so, it felt like a burden had lifted from her shoulders, and the freezing chill that enveloped her body seemed to fade away. In the alienage, one learned to accept death and welcome it, greeting death like an old friend rather than trying in vain to placate the reaper. In that moment, Kallian accepted the day's events, accepting that for the first time she had taken lives and accepting the death of loved ones both long held and newfound.

* * *

Looking around in confusion, the murderers of Adaia bickered and swore, staring in horror at their cooling bodies as they cursed at the still living elf, trying without success to attack her from their disembodied state. "That little, knife eared bitch! Sod! I'll teach her!" the last one to die said as his outstretched arms passed through the form of the young girl before his eyes glimpsed his bloodied corpse lying near to her. "Wait…what's that body doing there…"

"It's a shame. I always miss it when I have to leave the mortal world. I wish I had more time," a disappointed voice said behind them. The group turned to the origin of the voice, beholding the woman that lay dead, her pale skin now a chalk white and her face set in a wry smirk as she observed the quartet.

"What in the Maker's name is this, bitch? Where are we?" one asked threateningly.

"Oh, this is the plane between the mortal world and the realm of the dead. I brought you here," she answered with a smile.

"Brought us here? I killed you!" he yelled with fear growing in his voice.

She shook her head, "No, that's wrong. Only I have authority over the Sunless Lands, and I am the one who guides the living into the next world.

"What are you…some kind of demon from the Fade?" he exclaimed even while they shrunk back, beginning to feel the power that radiated through her form.

"I'm Death," she answered, laughing quietly. "I don't know where you'll end up after leaving here, but if my hunch is right, I would suspect you'll be seeing a lot of demons in the future".

Kallian stood at the doorway of the tavern, the serving girl still cowering behind the wooden bar. She looked down at her clothes now stained red with the blood of both foes and a friend. Her mother was avenged, but it had come at a high cost. Walking out into the morning light, a faint sound caused her to look back to the carnage behind her. As she listened, this time the sound came through more clearly, filling the room with the sound of wings.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter took longer to write than I expected, so much so that the new chapter for my other story probably will not come for a while. This is based off Death: The High Cost of Living where Death becomes mortal for a day. If you have not read it, I would recommend it even for those who do not like comics. Neil Gaiman is a fantastic storyteller. The city elf in this story is the same character as in my other stories so this could probably serve as a sort of prequel to Darkness of the Heart. The city elf was always my favorite out of all the origins, the elements of tragedy in the story really struck me. This story might take a long while to be updated as I work on a storyline for the next chapter, maybe it will involve Desire and Aeducan. **


	3. Desire

Desire

A cry of pain echoed through out the high-ceilinged room as the woman held her cheek, a look of shock in her wide eyes. She wiped the trail of blood from the corner of her mouth, her eyes darting to the red stain on her fingers. I drank in her pain, delighting in the sweetness of her shock and disbelief, a smirk forming on my lips at the shattered naïveté of another of these foolish mortals. The man who had struck her, his cold, dark eyes filled with revulsion and distaste, his mouth, barely visible beneath the braids of a well-groomed moustache, curled into a vicious snarl, roared at the cowering woman, spewing saliva and hateful invective at her. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I observed the man berating the woman, her face a mixture of confusion and hurt, her desires and hopes being crushed by this vicious man. The woman's companion stayed silent, the taste of her fear providing a bitter contrast in flavor to her unfortunate friend, like a glass of red wine after white.

These creatures, these strange mortals, were not the most beautiful I had seen during my long life, in fact they were rather unsightly. Their short and stocky bodies covered in scraggly hair, even the two women, evoked a feeling of disgust in me, and yet, I found myself drawn to them. Their raging emotions, their ravenous desires, they called out to me, piquing my interest. It was not the sex, no, that made these mortals so curious, but the desperation I felt in them, the greedy longing for wealth, prestige, power, all of these things that these mortals craved with such hunger. The two women believed that this man would give them everything they ever wanted: a home, adequate food, fancy clothing, the meaningless baubles these short-lived creatures seemed so fixated upon…if only they could give him what he wanted, a son. What made the younger of the two even more delicious, at least to my discriminating palette, was her misguided and innocent belief that this man was truly her savior, a prince to save her from a nightmarish life. To have this belief so cruelly dispelled, this righteous paragon constructed in her mind revealed to be a worthless fiction, sent a wave of heat throughout my body, the irony to succulent to ignore.

The man, heavily muscled with a face obscured by a thick beard, was not preoccupied by his more carnal desires. This distasteful activity was a necessity in his mind, a way of restoring a race of warriors ravaged by battle. The potential sons that could be produced, even if it meant consorting with lowborn whores, were of singular importance. But producing a son was not just for the sake of his people, I saw with little surprise, but to assert dominance over his rivals to power. This one sought to one-day rule over his people, the thought of the throne his all-consuming obsession. "_So this is what he truly wants_," I thought as I felt the corners of my mouth turn upwards into a grin. Since my brother had threatened me, I had tried to lay low for a while, but the urge to play with these mortals was too strong to ignore, my boredom compelling me to give these creatures what they wanted. After all, that is all I am, wanting.

* * *

Duran backhanded the idiot girl across the face, hard enough so that flecks of blood landed on the clean sheets. His fury only increased at this, the thought of a casteless besmirching his bed with her filthy blood enough to make him vomit. Her eyes were filled with shock as she opened her mouth to stammer out an apology, words that only increased the rage boiling within him. He struck her again, hard enough that she could no longer stay steady, her vision swimming from the blow. "How dare you speak in my presence, you casteless whore!" he raged. "I did not agree to your vile company for your remarkable ability at conversation! I allowed it so that I might receive a son for my trouble! Now be silent, lest I leave you for the darkspawn for their pleasures!"

She nodded even as her body quivered in terror, the other casteless girl making no move to comfort her. As he reached out to her, she flinched and closed her eyes, something that caused Duran's temper to once again rise dangerously. He considered striking her again but thought better of it, reasoning that it was beneath a noble of his stature to show anger at the actions of such a worthless speck of dust. When he was finished with them, he sent them away, giving Gorim orders to have the servants watch for signs of pregnancy. If they proved useless to him, he ordered his second to dispose of them, reasoning that two less rats in Dust Town would be an improvement.

He paced the halls of the royal palace, brooding on his imminent ascension to commander. Gorim was taking his sweet time, and he wondered how difficult it was to arrange for temporary quarters for a pair of casteless. Wouldn't they be satisfied with the servants' quarters? Anything would be better than the dirty hovels they occupied in Dust Town if they did not live on the streets. He concluded that the latter was far more likely considering the caliber of the two dusters. He pushed thoughts of the pair from his mind, no longer wishing to dwell on his dealings with the two.

Tomorrow he would lead an expedition into the Deep Roads, an opportunity to prove what everyone else except his aging father already knew: that he was far superior than that fool Trian. He would rather take a roll with a nug than allow that arrogant bastard to seize the throne. The only quality that Trian possessed that would even remotely qualify him to rule was his status as Endrin's firstborn, hardly the most inspiring reason. He had hoped that Trian would recognize his own inadequacy and bow out gracefully, but the idiot and his shameless, fawning supporters had somehow concluded that not only was Trian the proper choice to succeed his ailing father but that Duran should act the part of a loyal brother and support him. He scoffed at this, his fists clenching as he tried to wrap his mind around this insane idea, that he would willingly play the part of a dutiful, supportive brother like that simpering Bhelen.

Now there was a boy with absolutely no trace of the noble Aeducan bloodline. He had heard rumors that Bhelen had been born from some nameless duster, and his lack of any noble quality would seem to confirm that. Sometimes noble blood could not wash away the taint of casteless ancestry, and it surely showed in Bhelen. His thoughts returned to the noble hunters at this, and he suddenly felt the compulsion to order them killed now rather than suffer the birth of a son who would only bring shame upon his name. He quickly dismissed the thought though, knowing that the blood that ran in his veins would overcome even the dirtiest of ancestry.

Hearing footsteps, his eyes immediately shot up to the source of the sound, readying a rebuke as he expected to see the apologetic face of Gorim. The rebuke died on his tongue though as he beheld his brothers, Trian strutting forward with that pompous and snobbish look he knew so well with Bhelen in tow behind him. "Little brother, our king-father has been expecting you for some time now. Is it your wish to keep him waiting until the stone collapses on our heads?"

"Kiss my ass, Trian," Duran said with a snarl, the noble in no mood to deal with his annoying brother.

Trian clicked his tongue at Duran, his eyes dangerous as he looked over him with an appraising glare, "You would be wise to not employ such language when in the presence of your future king. You are no longer a child and should know that words can carry heavy consequences".

"In the presence of my future king? That's odd, I didn't know father had chosen Bhelen as his successor," Duran said with a mocking air, contempt layering every word.

Bhelen endeavored to suppress a chuckle but failed spectacularly, earning a chastising look from his older brother, "Find him humorous, do you Bhelen? It will not be so funny you must answer for your insults. I may find it difficult to forgive such disrespectful conduct".

"Brother, it's only a joke. There's no need to take everything he says seriously," Bhelen said smoothly as Duran rolled his eyes. "I believe father still wishes for us to get along".

"Father is blinded by his misguided affection for this ingrate," Trian spat with a violent gesture emphasizing his displeasure. "They will see tomorrow what a failure this so-called commander will be. All this ceremony for such an unworthy fool, how unfortunate. When I received my first commission, such pomp and circumstance was not needed…and for the future king, mind you".

"You need to be alive to be king, Trian," Duran spoke, the name rolling off his tongue like venom. He left no doubt as to his meaning.

Trian looked at him coldly, but Duran thought he saw a brief glimpse of fear in those beady, rodent-like eyes. "Is that a threat, foolish brother?" he asked, his voice like a tempered blade.

"Just an observation…brother," he said the last word like a curse.

They continued staring at each other for several moments, a silent challenge passing between them. Bhelen smirked, but neither saw the savage smile form and just as quickly disappear.

* * *

It seemed so familiar, the relationship between these three brothers. The older two were so superior, utterly convinced of their own cleverness and intelligence while in reality holding an amazing degree of ignorance. I could sympathize with the younger brother, forced to tolerate these clowns who falsely believed that the world was bound to their will. One day they would find that the control they thought came so easily to them was in reality nothing more than the egotistical delusion of a weak mind.

The feeling of anger quickly passed, however, as I studied the minds of these brothers. Each desired the same thing, something intangible and illusory, and yet mortals would fight and kill over it. This all-encompassing desire, the desire for power, shone strongly in all three of these creatures, so strongly that I could taste the sweetness of lust and greed. I was eager to give these brothers what they wanted, but for a brief moment I wondered, "_Why? Why do I feel this way? Why must I lower myself to interfere in the trivial rivalries of mortals?"_

The answer was not hard to obtain. In fact, I knew it even before I asked the question. "_I am that I am_," as another race of mortals had once written, words they placed in the mouth of the Creator, ignorantly believing that it was they who are created rather than they who create. It left a bad taste in my mouth, the knowledge that my life was dictated by the mortals who gave voice to what they felt and thus gave birth to me. We were all created thus, my siblings and I, to define the forces that controlled their short lives. When the first being to awaken sought to live, to survive, the create more like it, I was there. But I would not be bound by them, be dictated to by them; they were mine to manipulate and control, no matter what my elder brother said.

I continued to observe as the youngest left the company of his brothers, his mind a swirling cauldron of schemes and conspiracies. He felt wronged by the world, envious of the attention his brothers received merely out of the luck of their earlier birth. He wanted to show them, reveal to them how blind they had been, how foolish they were in not recognizing his greatness.

He had a vision, a vision of a strong dwarven kingdom, a kingdom that would recover its lost prestige by casting away the lead weights of tradition and tired dogmas of the long dead. He could see it, a grand kingdom restored to its former glory and he its savior, a paragon above even the greatest of the ancestors. It was all so close, the Assembly was in his pocket, bought off for trifling favors. The people of this dying city would quickly follow him if assured a comfortable existence, something surface trade would easily provide. The casteless, long-suffering for the crime of being born, they would be his army, his enforcers. He would raise them up and tear down all those who stood in his way. It was all so close.

It was ironic, these mortals, always concerned only with their own wants while blind to the fact that others may lust after the same. The greed of these creatures, so strong and all consuming, was so humorous to behold. They would kill to gain what they wanted, murder, rape, and pillage all because they felt they needed these things, these fleeting objects of desire. I knew best the nature of greed, ever present but always shifting, always focused on something new. After all, I lived it.

He entered a large room, elegant furnishings in abundance and lavish fabric draping the cold, stone walls. A woman waited there, her nervousness filling the chamber as her lover approached. She was a pretty thing within the standards of her race, I supposed, but it was a mask designed to please and intoxicate her prey. She was a hunter and yet a timid one. She desired what the others lusted after, but there was something else. Now this was both interesting and amusing, genuine love? Was she naïve, or had I misjudged the heart of her lover? No matter, love was simply the desire to bind another to oneself, perhaps the most selfish form of greed these mortals possessed.

* * *

"I do not believe that I can tolerate those two idiots for much longer. Their constant bickering must drive the ancestors mad. I can scarcely wait for when I am rid of their obnoxious prattle," Bhelen spat before catching himself in the midst of announcing his treachery. He turned to Rica, but her expression belied no indication that she understood his meaning. She was casteless after all; political machinations were most likely beyond her.

Rica opened her mouth to respond, but she quickly closed it and looked away. Her face was red with embarrassment as Bhelen stated coolly, "Am I to have a conversation with myself, Rica, with you as the spectator? I know that I awe those who listen with my words, but stunned silence grows tiresome after a time".

She immediately stammered out, "Forgive me, my Lord Bhelen. I didn't know how to respond. It would be improper for such a low creature like me to speak ill of your brothers".

The dwarven prince nodded in satisfaction, silently approving of the fact that she knew her place. "Speak ill of them all you want. They are fools who deserve every slight directed at them. They fight amongst each other, each believing that the other is the only foe that he faces. Their blindness will lead to a fall...and sooner than they think".

"I sincerely hope so, my lord. It is you who deserves the crown of Orzammar. Only someone like you, Lord Bhelen, who is kind and benevolent toward his people, should rule. I mean no disrespect, but I can't understand why your father fails to see this," Rica said forcefully.

A devilish smirk formed on Bhelen's face at these words. This girl must have truly misjudged him, or perhaps she let her naïve hopes obscure what only she could know. As for his father, the old man was wilier than Trian and Duran gave him credit for. Perhaps it took a father to truly know his son. "My father is a senile, old fool who allows himself to be swayed by the honeyed words of sycophantic parasites. His day is ending though, and a new era is beginning...my era, and you my sweet Rica will see it with me".

She nodded, approaching him gingerly. She still seemed so awkward when she was around him, but perhaps she had heard rumors of his brother's legendary temper. The fool was so insecure that he needed to abuse these casteless in a pathetic power trip. He, to the contrary, knew how to bend others to his will without such childish and wasteful methods and was not so weak that he needed to show those lower than him how much higher he really stood. He kissed her tenderly before apologetically explaining that he must leave her for a short while, a meeting with his brother, and more importantly, a meeting with destiny awaiting him.

* * *

I laughed at this thought, the idea of this stout creature standing in the presence of my tall, rail-thin brother frankly too amusing to ignore. One did not meet with Destiny except on those rarest of occasions. Everything that transpired was already recorded in that musty, old book chained to his arm. I wondered what Destiny thought when he read such things in his book. I wondered what he thinks when he reads of me thinking about what he thinks when he reads of such things in his book. I chuckled at the thought of a never-ending chain of such entries in his book and continued to peruse the subject for a few moments, hoping at least to annoy my eldest brother for a while.

I watched as this Bhelen told his brother of the supposed plot on his life. He did not even consider that his brother might be lying to him, deceiving him so that he would be the own author of his downfall. I did not let him. This was an opportunity Duran had long sought, a chance to rid himself of his troublesome older brother and finally gain the power to seize the throne. The lust for power in him was too strong, a lust that was all too easy to manipulate so that his doubts disappeared into nothingness. His brother knew then that the trap had ensnared the fool too lost in his own fantasies to observe the obvious danger. So arrogant, so blind, so wrong.

These mortals never understood and will never understand the true nature of desire. Desire is cruel. I am cruel. They may seek to satisfy their petty appetites, and they may even succeed...for a time. Eventually though, their desires will destroy them, leaving them with nothing but regret. It was this pain they felt upon realizing this singular truth that left me with quickened breath, my body unable to control the pleasure I felt. It was so beautiful, so delicious to behold. I could scarcely contain my anticipation. Maybe I should call Dream, he would probably be interested in this as well. After all, he loves stories, and this is the oldest story of them all, the tale of brother against brother.

* * *

Duran looked at the bloody corpse of his brother, his skull cleaved in two as blood and pulpy flesh spread upon the cracked stone. He snickered at the look on his face, still so pompous and superior, a small smirk frozen on his lips even as a bloody line bisected his face. Finally. Finally he would be able to claim his birthright. Power over all of Orzammar was in his grasp. Now all that was left was to dispose of the witnesses.

He tightened his grip on his blade as movement suddenly caught his eye. It was Bhelen leading their father and his entourage. Why had he come? Duran looked at his brother with confusion. Had they not discussed this the previous night? Had the fool already forgotten?

He heard Bhelen say, "Quickly, father, before we are too late!" In that moment, he knew he was betrayed. His father pushed him aside, falling to his knees before the mutilated body of his eldest son. The look in his eyes, one of horror and disappointment, was so agonizing to behold that Duran could not even return his father's gaze. He tried to defend himself, claiming self-defense before blaming Bhelen for setting him up. His excuses fell on deaf ears. Even as he tried to reach Bhelen to strangle him, to wipe that victorious smirk off his face, he still held out hope that this would be resolved somehow, that this was just a nightmare. It was not.

As his father's guards restrained him, Duran thought he saw a strange face staring at him from a pool of stagnant water, a pale face with a grim countenance, fangs extending from a mouth set in a permanent frown. When he looked again at the pool, the only face he saw was Bhelen's, his savage grin filled with perverted glee. He thought he saw his dark eyes flash gold for only a second, but when he looked again, pitiless orbs greeted him once gain.

* * *

I burst out laughing; I could not help myself. It was not befitting to take pleasure in the ruination of another foolish mortal, but it simply felt so good, and I wanted that feeling, that indescribable ecstasy. I saw my twin looking out from one of her many mirrors, her ugly visage observing the despair of this unfortunate creature. I guess we take our pleasures where we can find them. Now on to the next one, I suppose.

"Desire, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil; will you speak to me?"

I grimaced at the familiar voice. Him. He only called when he had some kind of problem with me. Best to get it over with. "Are you coming over or staying in your realm?" I answered reluctantly.

My question was answered when I beheld him, tall and thin, his skin the color of alabaster and his spiky hair black like the night. His eyes were just as black, filled with glittering stars. He wore a dark robe over his body, flames rising from the folds of flowing fabric that seemed to move on its own accord. "Dream," I said coyly. "You usually don't come by so often. What's the occasion?"

He was silent for a moment before speaking in that condescending tone that made my blood boil, "I thought I told you, did I not, sister-brother, that I would not tolerate your schemes any longer".

I glared at him. Really, the nerve of my brother, accusing me of plotting against him again. "I needn't remind you that the world does not revolve around you, brother," I said sweetly with just the right amount of condescension. "Interfering with your area of concern is _not_ a daily habit of mine".

"Then you deny playing with the mortal and making a nuisance of yourself where it is not your place to be?" he shot back angrily.

Now I was truly furious. How dare he come into my realm and threaten me for doing what I will with what it is my right to control. "The mortal was mine to do as I pleased with!" I raised my voice. "The wants and desires of mortals are mine to do with as I please, and it is none of your business what I do with them!"

"I have told you many times, Desire, that your contempt for mortals undermines our role. You are not a god free to lord over them but an aspect of their consciousness, but that is not my reason for being here," he stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I speak not of the mortal whose life you have just ruined, but the mortal girl who inhabits the same world. It is a dangerous thing indeed, sister-brother, to interfere with the tasks of our eldest siblings".

My breath caught in my throat, and I knew I was in trouble now. It was always a foolish thing to mess round with Destiny and Death, but I could not help myself. The thought of using these mortals' desires to shape the future appealed to me; I liked being in control.

"I know our sister did not scold you when you caused the untimely end of the girl's mother, but our brother is less understanding than our kind-hearted sister. Do not do it again; this is your last warning," he spoke seriously. "Be glad Destiny did not come himself, sister-brother".

"Yeah, because I'm _so_ glad you came in his stead, Dream," I spat, incensed that the bastard had the nerve to speak to me like a little child.

He looked back at me with those bottomless eyes and shook his head, leaving without another word. "Just wait, brother," I said quietly to myself. "You will not possess such arrogance when the Kindly Ones stalk your every step. I'll be the one laughing then". Oh how I longed for that day to come.

* * *

**A/N: It seems like forever since I updated this story. I have had this chapter written for awhile, but I was never really happy with it, and I could not find the time to type it up. Sorry about that. I am always hesitant about writing first person as it always seems like it is just the author talking in the guise of the character rather than the character itself, but I thought first person suited Desire who is a very vain being. I hope you enjoy it.**


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